


Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by lady4punk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Dean, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Demonic Possession, Demons, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knotting, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Reader, Omega Verse, Protective Dean Winchester, Reader-Insert, Revenge, Romance, Sex, Strong Dean Winchester, Strong Female Characters, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Young Dean Winchester, omega!reader, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2018-12-30 15:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady4punk/pseuds/lady4punk
Summary: Bobby and the Winchesters had been your family, they'd been your everything, but you'd left them and the hunting life behind. Now you need them more than ever before; will they help you? Will they be able to forgive you? Will Dean?





	1. I'd Like to Phone a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> **  
> **  
> (Warning: Does not accurately follow the SPN timeline)  
>  Hey, guy! This is my first attempt at the A/B/O universe so fingers crossed and I hope y'all enjoy! xoxo

“Shit! Fuck! Goddamn mother fucking... Pick up the phone, Bobby! Come on,” You hissed through your blood soaked teeth, ribs screaming in pain, head pounding, and your heart beating so fast it made your chest hurt.

You barely held back a scream of frustration as it once again went to voicemail. Taking a deep breath to resist the counter productive urge to throw your phone against the wall, you hastily finished lining the door with salt before hitting redial.

“Come on, you crotchety old grump! This can **not** be the one time you actually decided to sleep before four in the goddamn morn-”

“Who the **hell** is this?! And why the **hell** are you calling in the middle of the damn night?!”

The familiar voice brought a smile to your face, tears threatening to steal your voice as it sunk in how much you’d really missed the old man. A pounding on your bedroom door tore you from the emotional reunion dragging you back to the present as you watched the line of salt falter.

“Bobby, it’s me! I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to write down an address and get there as _soon_ as possible!”

You could practically hear him stop breathing, “...Y-Y/N? Where-what-”

“A **pen** , Bobby! Grab a **pen!”**

The pounding only got stronger as you hastily gave Bobby your address, apprehensively watching as the door began to splinter and break.

“Y/N, sweet pea, what the hell is goin’ on? Where are you? What’s happening?”

Pieces of wood began to fly across the room and your breathing became uneven as a sensation you hadn’t truly felt in years began to rush through your body; fear.

“I’m sorry, Bobby, I'm so sorry...”

“Y/N-”

“Promise me you’ll get here as soon as possible! Or if they’re closer, send the boys!”

“Y/N! What-”

“ **Promise** me!”

“I promise! I promise! Kid, you’re scarin’ the crap outta me. What in the Sam Hill is goin’ on?!”

“I’ll explain everything later,” watching as the door finally burst to shreds, you prayed that you were telling the truth. “Love ya, Bobby.”

Ignoring the concerned and, most likely, frustrated response on the other line you ended the call and stared into the inky black eyes of the figure now smiling at you in the doorway.

“Get your final good-byes out?” The woman cooed with a false sweetness that made your insides churn, upon seeing your silent nod the smile quickly melted into a snarl. “Good, cause I'm sick and tired of playing your little games!”

It wasn’t a second after she took her first step forward that a bullet struck her chest. You watched as she looked between you and the gunshot wound in disbelief; laughing until she realized that she couldn’t move.

“Devil’s Trap bullets,” you answered her unasked question, “Pain in the _ass_ to make... But very effective, as I'm sure you’ll agree.”

“You’ll pay for this, you little-” she paused as the both of you heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Her black eyes turned back to you with a smile, “There’s no getting out of this, Y/N. In mere seconds my friends will come down that hall. You’re completely outnumbered. Sure, you might be able to slow a couple of us down, but more will come. You’re cornered with nowhere left to run, little omega. Face it, there’s no getting out of this one.”

You opened a desk drawer pulling out a bottle of whiskey that hadn’t seen daylight in ages. With a sigh you popped off the top and took a long pull, wincing at the long forgotten burn.

“Do you hear the footsteps moving closer? Does it match the fear pounding heavily in your heart? Tell me, what feels stronger? The fear of your torturous oncoming demise or the despair that even after trying your absolute hardest you still _failed_ to prevent it?”

“God, I forgot how much you assholes love the sound of your own voice,” you mumbled hopping up to sit on the desk while taking another drink, “But you’re not wrong... This is a really shitty spot to be stuck in.”

Another demon appeared in the doorway only to get shot a moment later. You let out a sigh as you took another drink, easily tuning out the insults and threats being thrown your way. It was easier to focus on the burn in your throat rather than the fear that pounded through your veins. Would you make it out of this in one piece? They clearly wanted you alive, but for how long? How long could you keep putting off the inevitable? You had no doubt that Bobby and the Winchesters would find you, but what would be left of you by then? And would they ever be able to forgive you? Would Dean?

The next breath you took came out with a shudder and you quickly tried to stomp out the unwanted emotions with whiskey. You didn’t bother finding cover as more footsteps pounded up the stairs. There were more this time... a lot more, and you knew you didn’t have the ammo or the strength to take them all.

_If there is any higher power out there, please keep Mel safe._


	2. Singing in the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I have a computer again!!! I'm a little rusty so hopefully the story flow isn't as clunky and forced as I feel like it is. Lemme know how/if you like it so far. Sam and Dean show up next chapter! <3

**THEN ******

It wasn’t the wall shaking thunder that put Bobby on edge. It wasn't the lightning that lit up the sky every few minutes. It wasn't even the torrents of rain that flooded down and turned his entire property into a giant mud pit. No, it was a feeling. A strange tickling in the back of his mind that made his muscles tense and the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Someone was on his property.

Armed with a shotgun and a sharp eye, Bobby found himself drenched to the bone in rain, slowly and carefully searching his way through the junkyard. Old abandoned cars surrounded him like trees in a forest and he did his best to prepare for anyone or anything that might pop out at him. It was right after a blinding shot of lightning that Bobby heard it. Barely a whisper over the pouring rain was the sound of movement; Bobby silently followed it. And that’s where he found you. Nine years old, huddled and shivering in the corner front seat of an old Ford Taurus that was missing both of its left doors.

It took almost forty minutes for Bobby to talk you out of that car and into the house, and after the first thing he did was offer you a glass of water before finally seeming to relax.

“The hell you doin’ out there, kid? It’s rainin’ goddamn cats and dogs and you’re playing in a junkyard?”

You didn’t reply. Didn't make a sound, didn't move, didn't make eye contact. You hadn't been able to tell due to the rain, but inside the house it was one hundred percent certain; this man was an alpha.

With a small huff Bobby quickly left the room yelling back as he went, “Stay there! And don’t-just don’t touch anything!”

The moment the sound of footsteps faded up the stairs you released the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. It was hard to tell if the tremors in your body were from the cold or the new uncertain fear. You'd been scared before the large man found you hiding in the rain, but now that you knew he was an alpha you questioned whether or not you'd been better off freezing in that car.

Looking out the window you contemplated making a run for it, but you had nowhere to go and even desperate as you were, you knew that going out in that storm would only end in tragedy. So you reluctantly stay seated, listening as the strange alpha returns baring a towel and small pile of clothes.

“Here we are, you can dry off with this,” He grumbled handing you a towel before setting the pile beside you on the table, “And here’s some extra clothes I got for when the boys are over. Should fit ya better than anything else I got. Why don’t you go dry off.”

Cautiously you followed him to a small room, being sure to keep a wide berth between the two of you. As the man silently shut the bathroom door you quickly locked it before taking stock of your new surroundings. It was a small bathroom housing only the bare necessities and cleaned to the minimum. A disappointed sigh left your lips as you noted the lack of a window should you need to make a fast exit.

Stripping down you made quick work of drying yourself off, somewhat relieved to find that among the clothes grabbed for you were long pants and a shirt with long sleeves. It was an unspoken rule in your household that the less questions people asked the smoother things were at home. As you pulled the sleeves over the bruising on your arm your mother briefly crossed your mind. Was she okay? Had she even noticed that you were gone yet?

With another sigh you quickly shook the thoughts from your head. Taking a moment to brace your nerves you left the bathroom and made your way back to the kitchen. Hearing the alpha rummaging in the other room you decided to sit back where he had first put you; the longer you could put off the inevitable temper, the better. As he made his way back into the room you made sure to stay as still and small as possible.

“Least you can do is dry off proper,” he mumbled taking the towel and wringing the excess water from your hair before moving the towel to basically ruffle around the rest of the missed spots.

You mumbled a quiet ‘sorry’; that’s how you get the best results with alphas. Just tell them they’re right and you’re wrong and they’ll at least be slightly less angry.

“Ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, kid, just gotta make sure ya don't catch cold.”

The response was... unexpected, but not enough to make you drop your guard. The alpha looked you over in the new, dry clothes and his brow furrowed.

“Bit small for your age, ain’t ya?”

At the lack of response he continued, “You hungry?”

You couldn’t stop your wide eyes from snapping up to meet his. You’d thought yourself strong. You’d thought yourself determined and smart enough to have learned the certain rules when dealing with alphas, but the painful emptiness in your stomach was enough for you to momentarily throw all of that to the wind and stare up in hopeful desperation. The moment after you’d done it your logic came back and you readied yourself for a swift backhand to the face or worse. All you got was a small sad smile and a quiet, “I’ll see what I can’t scrounge up.” Before the strangest alpha you’d yet to meet was searching through his pantries.

You watched curiously as the man rifled through different cupboards and pantries, mumbling to himself along the way.

“Balls... Sorry, kid, didn't exactly prepare for havin’ company,” pulling away from the fridge he looked at you with an expression you could swear was apologetic, “We got chicken soup or I can make you a ham and cheese sandwich.”

He looked at you like he expected _you_ to decide, was this a weird test or trick? Honestly, you didn't care what he made so long as you ended up getting to eat it. When all you did was continue to stare at him blankly the man sighed.

“Guess I’ll just make both then,” You watched the man move around the kitchen and were honestly having a hard time still feeling threatened by him. “I never got your name, by the way.”

At your continued silence the man merely shook his head and went back to cooking, “Regular motor mouth, ain’t ya? Can’t say it’s not a nice change of pace from the normal chatterboxes I deal with... I’m Bobby by the way, not that you asked. You got any family I should be letting know where you are and that you’re okay?”

At this point you were almost completely unthreatened by Bobby, in fact you no longer felt the need to keep up the silent charade. Not answering direct questions was a sign of disrespect where you came from and any other alpha you’d grown around would’ve lost their temper on you a long time ago. But Bobby didn't even seem annoyed, maybe exasperated, but nowhere near angry. You silently tested the waters of this possible charade, but your guard eventually dropped as Bobby continued to just talk about this and that until you had a bowl of hot soup and a sandwich sitting infront of you. Without hesitation you grabbed the soup and began shoveling bites into your mouth.

“Hey! Hey! Slow down, soup’s hot!”

You paused finally acknowledging the burns in your mouth, before switching to inhaling the sandwich while you waited for the soup to cool.

“Ya know, most people swallow what’s in their mouth before taking another bite.”

Sheepishly looking up from your plate you tried to swallow what you’d chipmunked into your mouth only to choke.

“See what happens?” Bobby sat another glass of water in front of you, “Here, take a drink and then take your time. Food ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

After downing nearly half the glass you offered Bobby a small smile, “Thanks.”

Bobby returned the smile, “You’re very welcome. So, you gonna tell me your name now, sweet pea?”

Looking down at your sandwich you considered your situation and weighed your options. This man was a stranger, an _alpha_ stranger. However, he’d given you shelter, given you dry clothes, and food. He’d shown zero signs of aggression and despite a large part of your instincts telling you to stay on guard you found yourself feeling unusually safe with him.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Y/N. Mind tellin’ me what you were doin’ out there in the rain?”

Your body language closed back up without you realizing; you didn't want to answer that question. With a small shrug you went back to eating, suddenly feeling a bit less hungry. Bobby opened his mouth to say something that you’d never get to hear as a sudden knocking on the front door interrupted him.

“Be right back,” Bobby mumbled as he went to answer the door.

You let out a sigh; this happened every time. At least this time someone nice had found you and you’d gotten a decent meal. You quickly ate as much of the food as you could as you listened to Bobby talk to the person at the door.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but have you seen a little girl wandering around alone?”

“Who’s askin’?”

“Lauren, I-I’m looking for my daughter.”

“Bit stormy for a kid to just go wandering around, ain’t it?”

Your brows furrowed; why was he asking so many questions?

“We... had a small fight and she ran out...”

Well, that was an understatement. In reality it was a song and dance that happened regularly under your roof. Your mother’s alpha would mess around with another woman, lose his temper, or just be an all around ass. Drunk or sober it didn't matter; something bad would happen and it would be you or, more often, your mother’s fault. He’d yell, he’d hit, and she’d submit. As she was taught to do, as you were taught to do. But every now and then you couldn’t take it anymore and you’d fight back, that’s when things would get their worst. Your mom would inevitably try to protect you only to get the brunt of it all and you’d end up running away because it was always all your fault. It was never your place to challenge or question an alpha and the sooner you learned that the sooner you’d stop causing your mom so much pain.

With a sigh you pushed away what little was left of your food, appetite long forgotten. Walking out into the hall your mother immediately caught your scent and her eyes snapped to you.

“Y/N! There you are! You can’t keep running off and troubling strangers like this.”

“Ain’t been any trouble at all.”

“Right, well... thanks,” Lauren put her hand on your shoulder and gently started leading you through the rain to the car.

“Kid,” Bobby quickly called, eyes seeming to plead at you, “You gonna be okay?”

You thought for a moment before giving him a small nod, “Yeah.”

This time you’d definitely learned not to make him angry. You’d be a better daughter and this wouldn’t happen again; you were sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**NOW**

“This is the place... _really_?”

Sam shot Dean an apprehensive look before looking up at the modest two story house currently filled with cops.

“I think it’s...nice.”

“Yeah, if you’re into white picket fence, soccer mom, bullshit.”

“Dean, are you gonna be okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’re just following a mysterious tip from a phone call Bobby got in the middle of the night from a woman who vanished into thin _fuckin_ air... When was it again?”

“Dean-”

“ _Oh_ , yeah, how could I forget? Right before the big battle between Michael and Lucifer!”

“Dean-”

“Gone. When we needed all the help we could get. No warning, no explanation, no good-bye! Just one half ass written note to Bobby, like that squares everything! And then she vanishes off the face of the goddamn Earth!”

Sam sighed, waiting for his brother to finish letting out steam. When Dean took in a deep breath and ran a hand down his face Sam knew he was done.

“Better?”

“Oh, I’m just _peachy_.”

“Look, Dean, I know you and Y/N were close,” Dean made to interrupt, but stopped at Sam’s pointed look, “We were _all_ close. And you know as well as I do that the Y/N we knew wouldn’t have just ran off like that without a reason!”

“The Y/N we knew,” Dean mumbled under his breath before pointing an accusatory finger at the brightly colored VW Buggy sitting in the driveway, “What part of _that_ is the Y/N we knew?!”

Sam let out another calming sigh, dismissing the ominous feeling that he’d be doing that a lot in the near future, and fixed his brother with a tired gaze, “Let’s just focus on this case and when we run into Y/N we can ask her all the questions in the world.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, grumpily fixing his jacket. “But I see one bowl of potpourri and I'm calling shapeshifter.”

“Whatever helps, Dean, whatever helps...”

The brothers made their way into the house, playing the roles they could practically do in their sleep by now. It was always the same lines, the same questions, the same answers.

“I didn’t think the FBI would bother looking into a case like this.”

The lead officer on the scene, Thompson Dean thought he’d said his name was, commented as he led them through the main hall. Dean half listened to Sam’s BS excuse, something vague about similar cases popping up around the country, but he couldn’t focus. This whole situation just didn’t sit well with him. Five years; you’d been missing for almost five years. You’d left all of them behind; you’d left _him_ behind and now here you were turning up out of the blue and he was just supposed to accept that? When Bobby had first called them he hadn’t believed him. He hadn’t _wanted_ to believe him. But even if he’d tried to ignore it and leave the past behind, he couldn’t resist that pull. He needed to find out the truth, he needed to find _you_.

Seeing the apple pie life you’d apparently made for yourself only served to piss him off. Was this really what you’d abandoned them all for? After _everything_ , after a life time, you’d left to play house on some Stepford wive’s cul-de-sac? He chose to take anger over the stinging burn of rejection that hid underneath it. But it was increasingly hard to hold onto as the longer they stayed in the house the more your familiar scent surrounded him, slightly different and mixed with a new addition that only made it a million times better. He refused to acknowledge the cool relief he felt at not scenting the presence of another alpha, outside of a few of the officers investigating.

“Yeah, I'm thinkin’ some weird cult shit.”

Dean’s attention finally snapped back to Officer Thompson, “Wait, what? What would make you think that?”

“Well, like I was just tellin’ your buddy here, the case was weird to begin with. Single omega taken from her home in the middle of the night in _this_ neighborhood? I mean, possible, but not exactly probable. Neighbors swear up and down that they’ve known the girl for years; meek little thing, total sweetheart, couldn’t hurt a fly, no possible threats or enemies. Ok, but they also swear that they heard multiple gun shots. We got a gun, but we got no bullet holes, no bodies, no casings, and not a single drop of blood. Not to mention the lady next door who ‘swears on her life’ that she saw over ten hostile figures in the house, yet no one else managed to catch a single glimpse. Sure, we got obvious break in and signs of a struggle, but a group like that just vanishing in thin fuckin air without a trace or more witnesses?”

“Ok, but what about that makes you think ‘cult’?”

“Oh no, that’s just the beginning,” Thompson motioned for the boys to follow him up the stairs and into a bedroom. “This is where the struggle appears to have come to an end, it’s also where we found the gun. As you can see clean as a brand new whistle, the perps wouldn’t have had time to clean up the place if the witnesses are to be believed but just to cross our T’s we let Briggs do a sweep. Check it out.”

Thompson handed Dean the light watching the boys closely as they scanned the floors, failing to find anything.

“Check the walls.”

Dean turned the light onto the walls, him and Sam both freezing upon realizing what they were looking at. Hundreds of symbols covered the walls and ceilings. Gaelic, Latin, Greek; there were symbols from cultures all over the world, some the boys didn’t even recognize.

“The words you’re looking for, gentlemen, are ‘What. The. Fuck’,” Thompson continued before leading them back downstairs with a nod of his head. “Outta curiosity we started checking around the rest of the house for any more... ‘interesting’ symbols. And Lo and behold, if the entire damn place isn’t covered in ‘em. Some even carved in the goddamn furniture and walls. So, we take an even _closer_ look! We find salt lining the windows, I swear to God every door knob in the place is _actual_ silver, and... these.”

Thompson finishes by leading them into the kitchen where an unmarked box sits alone on the counter. The boys give one another a wary glance before cautiously peering into the container.

“The first few pieces came as a surprise, now I'm shocked when I _don’t_ look behind something and find a weapon.”

Sam and Dean carefully looked through the box of guns and knives, doing their best to try and seem surprised yet professional.

“So, you-uh- you think these all belong to the victim?” Sam asked desperately trying to resist rolling his eyes as Dean aggressively pointed at a bowl of potpourri sitting on the counter behind the officer’s back.

“Well, I definitely don’t think they belong to the kid...”

Both men froze, “The _what_?”

Thompson signaled them to follow him. Leading them down the hall he stopped at a plain completely normal looking part of the wall only distinguishable by a layer of yellow police tape. Thompson waved his hand at the wall as if showcasing it to the boys before running his fingers along the edges of one of the wooden decor panels. After a short while of fiddling there was a soft click and part of the wall opened up to reveal itself to be a small door leading to a larger closet. The walls were completely drenched in every sigil the boys had ever seen and even more that they hadn’t. The door was covered in locks and the only knob was on the inside. There was a floor to ceiling shelf filled with water bottles, dried food, and children books and toys; but the thing that drew Dean’s attention the most was the small nest in the corner that reeked of you and that scent from earlier that he loved but hadn’t been able to place until now.

“This is where we found her,” Thompson stated, snapping the boys attention back to him. “Poor thing can't be over four, wouldn’t have even found her if she hadn’t heard us and peeked out. Locked herself back in soon as she saw us; took over two hours to get her to unlock the door. Course we coulda just chopped through, but didn't wanna risk hurtin’ the poor thing.”

“Uh, can we- is the girl still here?”

Sam tried his best to stay in character as Dean went completely silent. Walking down the hall he stumbled upon a picture that he hadn't noticed before. It was of you, looking slightly older and softer than he remembered, holding a little girl that shared an obvious physical resemblance. Both of you were grinning at each other; the little girl’s hands and face were covered in ice cream and she was fighting her hardest to wipe some of it on yours. After making sure no one was looking, Dean slipped the picture from the frame and quickly pocketed it.

“Yeah, we got her in the living room. Called CPS, got an omega agent that specializes in trauma cases, but the poor pup won’t make a peep. Won’t move a muscle, barely even looks up. Though I can't say I'm surprised considering how obviously loony the poor things mom was.”

Sam barely managed to clear his throat fast and loud enough to cover his brother’s low growl, “So, can you take us to her?”

The officer looked between the two men, a little confused by the harsh glare he was now receiving from the eldest, but shrugged it off and led the boys to the living room. The room contained a few scattered agents, but in the center on the couch was a little girl, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, squeezing herself into an impossibly small ball. In front of her kneeled a blonde omega, smelling of honey suckle, using her most soothing voice to try and get the frightened child to talk but to no avail.

Both boys stood staring in shock at the tiny figure; neither one being able to comprehend that one of their oldest and closest friends had somehow become a mother. As the boys fought to find their senses, the small pup’s head suddenly snapped up at the new yet strangely familiar scents entering the room. The CPS agent cooed encouragingly at the girl assuming she’d finally gotten through to her, but the girl’s eyes stayed trained on the two tall men that had just entered the room. Shock soon melted into a giant grin and before anyone could even comprehend what was happening the small girl had rushed across the room crushing herself in a hug against both boy’s legs with a scream, “Uncle Dean! Uncle Sammy!”


End file.
